A Song of Ice and Superheroes
by Leah The Mermaid
Summary: A series of oneshots, featuring scenes from Game of Thrones-with characters from the Avengers. In the works are Loki and his dysfunctional marriage to his queen, Natasha debating whether to poison Clint, and whatever else comes to mind.


"I'm sorry your marriage to Thanos didn't work out. You two seemed so good together."

Loki looks up at the sound of my voice, the familiar icy sarcasm bringing a small smile to his face. He has his hand chained to a table in his glass holding cell on Midgard. "I'm glad I could do something to make you happy."

"How could you not know everything would fall to pieces?" I ask.

"I suppose this is where you tell me I should have just tricked Odin into leading the attack."

I sit down, shaking my head. "No. Odin doesn't have the nerve. I'll say this for Thanos-he had nerve."

We stare at each other; we stare at each other the same we've been staring at each other for the eight years of our miserable marriage. Finally, I ask, "Was it really worth it? Losing Odin and his lot in this way?"

To anyone else, Loki would have said yes. But we are beyond that, even with the SHIELD cameras in the corners. "I don't know. I knew I couldn't stay," he replies. "Odin wanted to get rid of his failed adoption. Frigga wanted to pretend everything could be fixed. Thor wanted to run around on Midgard until that old fool stuck a crown on his undeserving brow."

"What did you want? Truly?"

My lord husband's smile was like the jagged edge of a poorly cut gem. "Besides the world? I wanted to see the foolish crumble. I had lived too long in that brood of meat-headed, heedless tyrants. And they hated me equally, so I don't have any idea what kept me in there."

"Our marriage," I suggested softly.

Our laughter echoed of the walls, banging around back into our heads and continuing after we had stopped. First his, then mine. It was cruel how funny it was.

"So here we sit, eight years later, holding that ridiculous group together," purred Loki. "Tell me, my sweet wife, do you ever get tired?"

"Every day."

"How long, I wonder, can hate hold a thing together?"

"Eight years is quite a long time."

"Yes, it is," he says.

"Yes," I say. "It is..."

The room is silent for a long while. Silence is something we were never in want of, truth be told; too often there is nothing to be said. There are never any words that could rebuild burned bridges,after all. I had been promised to Thor in the beginning: I would have been queen. He rejected me. But the alliance of our kingdoms had to go on, so it was Loki whose empty eyes refused to look at mine as we became man and wife. I was thirteen.

"You wish it was him, don't you?" asks Loki, quiet. My mind is his to read, as much as I was his to resent.

"You've never asked about this before."

Loki folds his fingers elegantly. "At first, I wouldn't think of it, even in private. It was like breathing life back into your fantasy. I thought if I didn't talk about it, all the bitterness would just...fade away for you. When I realized that wasn't going to happen, I refused to ask out of spite. I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of thinking I _cared_ enough to ask, and eventually, it became clear that my spite didn't mean anything to you. As far as I could tell, you actually enjoyed it."

"What can the ghost of 'what might have been' do to us that we haven't done to each other a hundred times over?"

Our mirth is more subdued at this; we share a smirk and he takes my hand. Not romantically, but like an old friend reminiscing over an inside joke. The joke being 'us'. Because we may as well hate our lives together.

"I felt something for you once, Asta," he says.

"I know," I whisper. I don't even have the good grace to look away.

"Even after we lost our baby-for quite a while, actually."

The baby was the only thing that ever brought us together, after what was then five years. Loki was the one to find me when it died within me.

He continues, calm as ever, "Was it ever possible? For us? Was there ever a time, ever a...a moment?"

"No."

"No," he repeats. Over the word he rolls his silver tongue, letting it echo ever so slightly before asking, "Has my little confession made you feel better or worse?"

Numbly, I find myself walking around the table to sit in his lap and lean into his chest. His arm folds around me, and it is as cold as every night we shared the same bed.

"It doesn't make me feel anything,"

**Stuff I Have to Say: Set just after the NYC attack and Loki's arrest. The dialogue is not exact. This is not an OC story, I just needed one to make it fit. Maybe Asta will return, who knows? Sorry if this is confusing-made sense in my head. As this is not a widely written crossover, any and all reviews/favs/follows would be priceless to me. I own nothing. Thank you all! 3**


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